


The Selkie

by LoriLee (cowgirl65)



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Coming of Age, Fantasy, Gen, Selkies, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirl65/pseuds/LoriLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is the youngest brother never mentioned after halfway through the first season?  This is one tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Selkie

**Author's Note:**

> The first half of this story was adapted from an old Hebridean folktale. The rest is not your typical BV story.
> 
> I don't own anything and make nothing from writing this other than cheap thrills

Long ago, on an island at the northern edge of the world, there lived a fisherman. He lived all alone in a stone croft where the moorland met the shore, with nothing but seabirds for company and the shifting of the sand on the beach for song.  


But in the long winter evenings, he would sit by the fire, watch the blue smoke curl up to the roof and his eyes looked far away, as if he was looking into another country. And sometimes, when the wind rustled the bent grass on the grassy land above the waterline, he seemed to hear a soft voice sighing his name.  


One spring evening, the men of the nearby village were bringing their boats full of herring into shore. They swung homeward with glad hearts, their wives lit the lamps and the wide world dwindled to a warm quiet room. The solitary fisherman was the last to drag his boat up the shore and hoist the day’s catch upon his back. He stood a while and watched the seabirds fly low towards the headland, their wings dark against the evening sky and then turned to trudge up the bank to the croft near the shore.  


It was as he turned that he saw something move in the shadow of the rocks. There was a flash of white and then he heard a high laughter like a silver bell. He set down his catch and with careful steps he neared the rocks, hardly daring to breathe as he hid behind the largest one. It was then he saw them; seven of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, naked and white as the swans on the lake, dancing in a ring where the shoreline met the sea.  


Then his eye caught something else. It was a shapeless pile of speckled brown skins lying heaped like seaweed on a boulder nearby. He now knew that they were of the Selkie, who are seals in the sea and take off their skins to appear as human on the land.  


Humped low so he would not be seen, the fisherman crept towards the pile of skins and slowly slid the top one down. But scarcely had he rolled it up and put it under his coat than one of the Selkie gave a sharp cry. The dance stopped, the circle broke and the girls ran to the boulder. They slipped into their skins and slithered into the rising tide, shiny brown seals that glided away into the dark night sea.  


All but one. She stood before him as white as pearl and as still as frost in starlight. She stared at him with great dark eyes that held the depths of the sea and then slowly, she held out her hand as she pleaded in a voice that trembled with silver, “Please give me back my skin.”  


He took a step towards her and grasped her outstretched arm by the wrist. "Come with me," he said kindly, "I will give you new clothes to wear.”  


The wedding was set for the time of the waxing moon and the flowing tide. All the folk of the village came, six whole sheep were roasted and the whiskey ran like water. Toasts overflowed from every cup for the new bride and groom; the fisherman, beaming and awkward, unused to company, tapped his spoon to the music of fiddle and pipe, but the woman sat quietly beside him at the bride-seat and seemed to be listening to another music that had in it the sound of the sea.  


In the fullness of time, she bore him two children, a boy and a girl who had the sandy hair of their father, but they had the great dark eyes of their mother. Each day, when their father was out in his boat, his children would wander along the seashore with their mother to gather limpets or fill their baskets with seaweed from the rocks at low tide. She seemed settled enough in the croft on the shore and in May-time, when the air was scented with thyme and the children ran towards her with their arms full of wild yellow irises, she was almost happy.  


But when the west wind brought rain, and strong squalls whistled through the cracks in the walls, she grew restless, moving about the house as if swaying to unseen tides and when she sat at the spinning wheel, she would hum a strange song as the fine thread streamed through her fingers. Her husband hated those times and would sit in a dark corner, staring at her over his pipe, but unable to say a word.  


Thirteen summers passed and the Selkie’s children were almost grown. As she knelt on the warm earth one afternoon and dug up silverweed roots to roast for supper, the voice of her daughter Aoibheann rang clear and excited through the salt-pure air. She looked up to see the girl beside her, holding something in her hands. "Mother! Is this not the strangest thing I have found? It’s softer than the mist to my touch."  


Her mother rose slowly to her feet and in silence ran her hand along the silky brown skin. She held it to her breast with one hand, put her other arm around her daughter and walked back with her to the croft in silence, heedless of the girl's puzzled stares. Once inside, she called her son Eoghan to her and spoke gently to her children. "I will soon be leaving you and you will not see me again in the shape I am in now. I go not because I do not love you, but because I must become myself again."  


That night, as the moon rose white as a pearl over the western sea, the Selkie rose and left the warm bed and her slumbering husband. She walked alone to the silent shore and took off her clothes one by one to let them fall to the sand. Then she stepped lightly over the rocks and unrolled the speckled brown parcel she carried with her. For one moment she hesitated, her head turning back to the dark croft on the shore before she wrapped the shining skin around her and dropped into the singing water of the sea. A sleek brown head appeared in the dip and crest of the moon-dappled waves to swiftly leap and dive towards her with six other seals. They formed a circle around her and then all were lost to view in the dark night.  


In the croft by the village, the fisherman stirred and felt for his wife, but his hand only encountered a cold and empty hollow. All he could hear was the rustle of grass on the shore, but it did not sigh his name. He knew better than to look for her and he also knew she would never come to him again.  


But when the moon was young and the tide was in flood, his children would not sleep and ran down to the sands on silent feet. There, by the rocks on the shoreline, they waited until she came, a brown seal with great dark eyes. Laughing and calling her name, they splashed into the foaming water and swam with her until the break of day.  


The fisherman’s children eventually married to have their own children and all were drawn to the sea. Then one day, one was drawn further than most and took sail for a new world. The pull of the sea lessened with each generation but the Selkie’s descendents retained the almost magical beauty and charm of their heritage.  


It is said that every Selkie has a skin, although the manner in which that skin comes to them can be as different as the sources of the four winds. The discovery of a Selkie’s skin is not like the discovery of a treasured book or wondrous item, magically transforming any mortal who finds it into a creature of the sea. Each skin is intended for a single being and no matter how long it may take, each skin will eventually find its owner.  


*  


The ocean pounded against the rocks as the cries of gulls echoed through the air and Eugene Barkley gazed out across the North Sea. He’d always loved the ocean, ever since he was a young lad and his older brother Jarrod had taken him to San Francisco. Gene had been devastated over the death of his father and his brother, now his guardian, had brought him to the City by the Bay in the hope that a change of scenery would help him gain some distance from the ranch where their father had met his end. Gene had been fascinated by the crashing waves and during the week he’d spent with Jarrod, found a measure of acceptance for the fickle ways of Fate.

It hadn’t been as hard of a decision as he thought it would be to move over 5000 miles from where he’d grown up, but somehow, as much as he loved California and his family, Eugene never felt like he truly belonged. His mother and brothers always told him he just had to find himself, to grow into his own skin, and when he was offered the opportunity to study medicine at the University of Edinburgh he jumped at the chance. But even though he loved his new life, Eugene still didn’t feel as though he quite belonged.

Then he took the trip north to visit the ancestral home of Clan Barclay, the Scottish family he could trace his lineage back to if he went far enough. Only another half day trip to the coast and Eugene felt at home like he never had before. It was an expanse of wild ocean, rather than the glorious valley he’d grown up in, but he knew he’d finally found his place.

As he watched the waves break on the rocky shore, Gene spotted a movement that wasn’t of the water. He concentrated on it and a wide smile came across his face as he realized it was a group of seals coming in to rest upon the rocks. The young man felt a strange pull and decided to get closer.

Eugene carefully made his way down the small cliff. He didn’t want to disturb the seals, but the urge to get as close as possible was too strong to ignore. As he made his careful way along the rocks, soft brown eyes followed his progress without fear. Gene got as close as he thought he could without disturbing them before he saw it. His heart broke as he regarded the limp form in the center of the other seals and wondered if that was why they’d come to the shore, to mourn their fallen comrade.

Something strange overcame him at that point. As Gene made his way to the dead seal, he realized that it wasn’t a body, only a skin. It felt warm and soft under his fingers and as he moved closer, it seemed as if the seals were encouraging him to pick it up and wrap it around himself. As he did so, Gene felt the sealskin start to melt into his own. He had a brief moment of panic, but the eyes of the others were calming and the fear washed away.

One by one, the seals slipped off the rocks and into the waters of the North Sea. Gene didn’t hesitate to follow, not even noticing the cold. As the waves washed over him, his body thickened, his arms grew shorter and his legs fused into one before he shot through the water with a heart full of joy. One of the other seals swam to him, rolling through the water as she came and touched her nose to his as if to say, “Welcome home.” He experienced a pang of regret that his family would never know what happened to him, but as he dove through the waves with his new-found kin, he also knew he’d found his place in the world and had finally grown into his true skin.


End file.
